


Bested

by Delphi



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Drama, Humiliation, M/M, Power Dynamics, Sparring, Swords & Fencing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:13:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The master rarely agrees to an exhibition, but when guests arrive under the banner of the white lotus, their wishes are to be indulged..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bested

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 round of Kink Bingo. Kink: "Humiliation (In Public)"

The master rarely agrees to an exhibition, but when guests arrive under the banner of the white lotus, their wishes are to be indulged, and Fat reluctantly joins Piandao in the training yard. It is nearly dinnertime, and the sun has sunk below the cliffs. A presumptuous guest has lit the lanterns with a flourish of his hand, and Piandao wears the firelight well.

They bow to each other and draw their swords. Piandao has selected the Two Gentlemen for this demonstration, a pair of double-edged straight blades, forged as twins, identical to each other. There is no way to distinguish one from the other by sight, but Fat can tell—as he does tonight—when he is holding the one he thinks of as Piandao’s.

His face, though impassive, is flushed even before the first strike. He can feel the weight of the spectators’ gaze upon them as the clash of metal rings out. He plants his foot, pivoting relentlessly to block each blow as Piandao all but flies in his orbit, weightless and graceful. This is supposed to be private, this breathless, whirling dance. They spar every day, only the two of them, behind the shelter of the walls and in the shadow of privacy.

Piandao is not the only man Fat has loved, but he is the only man he’s never bested in a fight, and he would sooner be fucked in front of this crowd than let them watch this.

He slashes, he kicks, he ducks, and his throat tightens at the polite sounds of approval from the sidelines. Defeat is inevitable, but he strains at the boundaries of his own ability, pressing forward with a ferocity that seems to register surprise in his partner’s eyes.

Nonetheless, it is over in minutes. Without restraint, it might have been seconds. For an instant, Fat hesitates, his gaze flickering to the audience, and that is all it takes. His feet are swept out from under him and he lands hard on his back. His sword flies from his grasp, clattering across the stones. He is disarmed, the point of a blade at his throat, and he swallows thickly, hardly able to breathe through the burning flush that unfurls inside him.

Then, just as swiftly as it touched him, the cold steel is gone and the master has offered his hand. Fat takes it and heaves himself up. He knows that up close, Piandao cannot miss the colour on his cheeks and cannot mistake the quickness of his breath for exertion.

“I need to see to dinner,” he says shortly, and he bows—to his master, not to the guests—and takes both swords to return them to the armoury.

His heart is pounding so loudly that he almost doesn’t hear Piandao following him. He steps into the armoury and then waits for the shadow to fall behind him before turning around, shutting the door, and pushing Piandao up against the wall. Piandao’s skin is cool, but his mouth is hot and silently apologetic as Fat kisses him, pressing against him and making him yield in turn.

Being beaten in front of an audience is unbearable, he thinks as his eyes shut and Piandao’s hands steal into his robes. But being beaten by the very best is the truest pleasure he knows.


End file.
